Page 46 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

I laugh, and she flips me off. God, I can’t wait to go toe to toe with a little girl as bratty as her mother.

Once I’m sure she’s in the bath, I go upstairs to change the sheets to get ready for bed. It takes a minute to strip the bed and put new sheets on—but not long enough. My eyes are glued to the timer I set when my phone rings. Shit. It’s Brenna Downey’s father.

“Eoin.”

“What’s this about you not fancying marrying my Brenna? You got another? Are you going to marry the other girl?”

Closing the door to the bedroom. I fight a sigh as I sidestep the question. The last thing I need is for the men in Ireland hearing about Miranda before I’m ready. If I get her pregnant, they’ll march my ass down the aisle. However, if I simply tell them she’s what I want—they’ll fight me on it.

“We won’t make a good match. Brenna is a fine girl. She does you proud. But I’ve already had one marriage that was complete shite. I’m not willing to try it again unless I’m sure.”

“Hmm…” It’s annoyed. The one good thing about how fucking wrong my marriage to Orla went is that everyone knew it and understood my reluctance to do it again. “Aye, then. What about your man, Colm? Brenna wants to stay in Chicago. What with her, you know, different. She can’t stay in the States without a marriage license. With Colm an American she could stay.”

I shake my head as I understand Brenna likely dealt with less prejudice in Chicago than in Ireland. Her mother was a Vietnamese woman who traveled to Ireland on vacation and never left. Sadly, she died only days after Brenna was born.

“As much as it pains me, I want her happy. And she’s never been as happy in Ireland as she has in Chicago. She feels she fits better there.”

Colm would agree if I told him. He’d remarked Brenna was a good-looking girl when I first spoke to Brenna about a possible marriage. “Colm is a good man. I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.”

The timer goes off at the same time the call ends.

Miranda is stepping out of the bath, gloriously naked. When she sees me, the smile on her face takes me completely out.

CHAPTER 14

Miranda

Declan tears the towel from the heated rack and wraps it around me, using the ends of it to pull me up against him.

I giggle. “You’re getting all wet.”

“Totally worth it.” His mouth is on mine as he backs us up into the room I’ve been sleeping in.

He picks me up and puts me on the bed. “You changed the sheets?”

His shirt disappears. I fight not to sigh over how gorgeous he is. An eyebrow goes up. “My hands work. They’re not broken.”

“I think that’s what I like most about you, the way you take care of me. You don’t expect me to do everything for you.” I admit.

The eyebrow is back up. “So it’s not my body?”

I laugh. “It’s both at differenttimes of the day.”

His head tilts to the side. “I love hearing you laugh. Sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Although hearing you moan, my name is right behind it.”

“I’ve never been this happy before,” I admit.

Lowering his lips to mine, I want to cry when he stops close enough I don’t understand how our lips aren’t touching. “And that's why I love taking care of you. Seeing you happy is almost as addictive as your tasty cunny.”

A slow slide of his tongue across my lips has me opening wide and going down in flames. His words were so dirty, yet his kiss is so sweet. Every kiss so far has been hungry and demanding and made my bones melt. This time is a gentle tasting, yet it still has me melting—somehow turns me hungrier than the other kisses.

When he tears his mouth from mine, I don’t care my lungs are starving for air—I moan from the loss. Tears of frustration are building as he licks and nips his way down my throat before stopping to suck at the hollow where my heart is pounding.

Unlike last night, he’s allowing his body to brush against mine. I’m desperate for more. The thick hair on his chest is almost as silky as his skin as he slides over my swollen breasts and aching hard nipples.

I cry out in frustration when one hard hand captures my wrist and brings it down to over my head. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.” He hisses low. “I already should be letting you recover for longer than a hot bath and a day.”

My other hand is caught and forced above my head. I hate him for being able to hold both wrists in one large hand. “Declan, please. I need you. I’m good. I feel good. Please.”

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